


Taking care of a wolf

by Chelidona (Hobbity)



Category: The Mortal Instruments (Movies), Young Hercules
Genre: Copying the mistakes I and my Swiss friends tend to make, Fluff, I had a lot of fun making Iolaus speak bad English, Luke is still a werewolf though, M/M, Modern AU, Some hurt/comfort, Takes place in Switzerland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 01:44:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10526289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbity/pseuds/Chelidona
Summary: In the Basler Jura (Switzerland) near the French border, Iolaus finds a mysterious stranger, who is wounded but refuses to go to the hospital. So Iolaus decides to take care of him himself.This was written as a price for mosslover, who won a 2-3 k fic in the WinterFRE. Now if you noticed the wordcount above, I didn't quite manage to stay within that limit.The prompt was: a modern IoLuke, where Iolaus helps Luke, maybe he got hurt during a transformation and Iolaus finds him afterwards?"He didn't get hurt during a transformation, I hope the fic is still ok :)Beta read by Lakritzwolf, who also helped a lot with suggestions on how to write hurt/comfort and how to keep it realistic. Thank you so much again!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mosslover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosslover/gifts).



> As it says in the tags, this takes place in Switzerland ... Iolaus doesn't talk English very well, I copied the mistakes I and my friends frequently make in English ... I might have got a bit carried away. Anything between [brackets] is Iolaus speaking Swiss German. I am not very familiar with the Swiss German spoken in Basel Land, but for those who know some German and are curious what Iolaus might actually be saying, I tried to do an approximination in the hover text.  
> The "Rega" is the Swiss Air Rescue ... a helicopter ambulance basically.  
> Some more explanations of why Switzerland etc. are in the endnotes

At first Iolaus thought the creature was a dog. He had just been enjoying a hike all by himself, taking in the late summer sun. As always, he hadn’t followed the official paths and on his way to the car, he had practically stumbled over the animal that lay motionless in the middle of a small clearing.

 

Closer inspection made him doubt that it was a dog. Canine, definitely, but this looked suspiciously like a wolf. He glanced around surreptitiously. Were there any more of the beasts nearby? Nothing moved. He heard about lone wolves moving into Switzerland from the French Jura, so it was likely the animal had no pack. He couldn’t hear or see anything.

 

The bigger mystery was what had happened to it. It had several wounds, from what Iolaus could make out in the fur, among them one deep scratch across his nose; all over its body, dark patches of stiff fur indicated more wounds. Iolaus would have thought it had been a fight with another wolf, had it not been for the nasty gash gaping on the left flank of the animal that was still bleeding sluggishly.

 

Iolaus might not be an animal expert, but he knew that teeth wouldn’t leave such a long, clean cut. There was a puddle of blood darkening the soft soil of the forest, and that was never good.

 

Unfortunately, while he had extensive first aid training it didn’t cover wolves, or any other animals for that matter. Iolaus pulled out his phone, but of course there was no reception up here.

 

The animal was shuddering and its lids fluttered, revealing a sliver of dark eyes.

 

“  [Wait here],” Iolaus tried to sound as soothing as possible, when he heard the growling. It sounded too weak to be dangerous. “  [I’m just going to call for help, we’ll help you, nothing is going to happen, I promise … I …]”

 

His vision seemed to blur for a moment and when he blinked, a very naked man lay where the wolf had been. The wounds looked so much worse now; the deep gash was particularly troubling, but there were several nasty looking bitemarks and scratches too.

 

“Uh.” He couldn’t think of anything more intelligent to say. “ [I, um, I’m going to call the Rega, they’ll fly you to hospital, just, I don’t have any reception here and …]”

“No.” The voice was very faint. “Please.”

“Um.” 

 

Iolaus looked at the man, strangely distracted by the one white strand in the mess of black hair. And the beautiful beard. His mind was only slowly finding its way back to reality. The man had spoken English. It had been years since Iolaus had used the language, and it took him a moment to assemble a sentence.

 

“I will call Rega? They fly you to the spital?”

“No. No hospital.”

 

Iolaus nodded, still too stunned. His mind was reeling, the rational part of his brain insisting that he had only imagined seeing a wolf, but his very fresh memories insisted they were entirely correct. This man had been a wolf. Said man tried to push himself up into a sitting position.

 

“You were the wolf?” Iolaus asked a bit late.

“Yes. Help me, please.”

 

The stranger was sitting now, still very naked, on the ground and groaned, but he looked up at Iolaus with big hazel eyes, unfocused but desperate. He was tall, with well defined muscles underneath the soil and blood.

 

Iolaus gulped. The smart thing to do would be to run, run away from whatever this was.

Iolaus had never been smart and he had never walked away from anyone needing help.

 

“You can walk when I hold you?”

“Yes …”

“Good.”

 

Iolaus took off his coat and put it around the man’s shoulders. It didn’t cover much, but it was unlikely that they would meet many people up here on a Tuesday morning outside the holidays.

 

It should have taken them 10 minutes to get to Iolaus’ car. Instead it took them 45. There were only two more cars in the small parking lot, but nobody near. The other hikers had probably taking the path in the other direction, where they could have a good view over to the alps.

 

Iolaus was starting to feel anxious. Here he was, in the middle of nowhere (more precisely, in the Basler Jura not far from the French border), with a naked werewolf (his brain screeched to a halt at that thought), a naked man, who was badly injured but didn’t want to go to the hospital.

 

Legally, he was required to take him there, he would be liable if the man died.

But this man could turn into a wolf. Iolaus didn’t want to get on his bad side and he also didn’t want to get caught in the middle of something if he spontaneously decided to transform back into a wolf in the A&E.

 

So he helped the man to lean against the car, while he quickly shovelled all the clutter from the backseat to the boot (why did he have a hat and a scarf there in late August?) and swiped down the ancient crumbs gathered between the cracks.

 

“You lay down,” he said as he practically pushed the half-conscious man in. “Nobody see you.”

Compliance was all the answer he got, but it was enough. He pulled a jacket from the boot again to cover the naked body. That should suffice.

 

It wasn’t a long drive home, although Iolaus was driving more slowly than usual, taking the corners as widely as possible in order not to jostle the stranger. There was hardly any traffic at this hour; most people in the area commuted to various towns for work and on a Tuesday only pensioners and housewives were about. And Iolaus, whose day off was always Tuesdays.

 

His vague fears, fuelled by all the films he had seen, of a dark car suddenly appearing to chase him to snatch that mysterious stranger, seemed ridiculous in the familiar landscape; he had left the forests behind him, and was surrounded by fields and farms.

 

No car or motorbike was following him when he pulled into the small road leading to the farm house he shared with his best friends, Hercules and Jason. The house was easily recognizable as theirs by the Greek flag they had put on the wooden balcony next to the Swiss one during the European championship and never taken down, because they were too lazy to undo the hard knots and too stingy to ruin the flag by cutting through them.

 

The farm had belonged to Hercules’ late stepfather, a Swiss farmer who had fallen hopelessly in love with a Greek woman and her small toddler when he had been on holidays 21 years ago.

 

Anton had since died and Hercules’ mother, Alcmene, had moved to Basel to work at a travel agency, leaving the village life behind. Because Hercules wasn’t much inclined to farming, most of the farmland had been sold, but Hercules was too sentimental to part with the house and the orchard, so he had convinced his two best friends to move in with him after they all finished university and they had started their own martial arts school in the small town nearby.

 

At the moment, Jason was doing another internship at his father’s company and Hercules was in Germany to take over some martial arts classes from their old trainer Cheiron, who had had an accident. Iolaus was left to tend to what was left of the farm (mainly the orchard) and teaching all the classes in the their school.

 

The advantage of living in the old farm house when hiding mysterious men was that they had converted the old barn, attached to the main house, into a garage. Rather uncharacteristically, Iolaus went to close the gate as soon as he had parked the car. From the barn, there was a door into the entrance hall of the house.

 

The man was unconscious again and Iolaus found that it wasn’t easy to carry someone who was almost a head taller than him up a very narrow staircase. He had contemplated putting the man on the couch, but the couch was always dirty and not ideal for treating wounds. So he had decided to bring him to his own room, as they didn’t have a guest room.

 

Once that was done Iolaus’ shirt was soaked in sweat, and he surveyed his charge. In other circumstances, he would have welcomed the sight of a beautiful naked man on his bed; a bed that had sadly seen no action since Iolaus had moved in, despite being big enough for two. He forcefully pulled himself out of these thoughts.

 

At least, with a human body, he knew what to do. He checked the man, and when there didn’t seem to be an immediate threat to his life, he began by giving him a sponge bath, trying very carefully to free his wounds from as much soil, pine needles and other forest debris as he could.

 

He wrapped the guy in a towel while he was hunting for some of Hercules’ sweat pants and shirts, as well as their big first aid kit. As all of them were into martial arts, bouldering and rock climbing, they always needed to be prepared for accidents. They also had taken several classes on how to treat wounds; there had been one bad accident when Iolaus had managed to slip off a boulder and fall right into the shards of an old bottle and after that, they were all determined to learn as much as amateurs could about treating wounds. Even in a place as densely populated as Switzerland, which boasted an excellent infrastructure, it could take time until help arrived.

 

When Iolaus came back he heard the man groaning. Unfocused hazel eyes swivelled towards Iolaus as soon as he reentered the room.

 

“Where …”

“You do not want to go to the spital. You are in my home,” Iolaus told him.

“Oh.”

“I clean and bandage your wounds, ok?”

“Yes.” It sounded very weak.

 

Iolaus inspected the big gash critically. At least it was hardly bleeding anymore. It was deep and probably needed stitches. He had learnt that in one of the first-aid courses; it had been a while, but he felt he should be able to do it. Once he had cleaned it more thoroughly and read through the manual again.

 

Which said that if the wound was already hot, red and swollen, it should not be stitched as that would encase the infection. It did look red and a bit swollen.

 

He frowned and and poked at the wound. Immediately, Luke yelled and his eyes flashed yellow. Iolaus stumbled backwards. They stared at each other for several moments, then he heard the stranger take three deep breaths.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“It is hot. I cannot …” Iolaus made a stitching movement. Luke nodded, still panting.

 

“You are sure you do not want to go to the spital?”

 

“No!” The growl made Iolaus flinche. He smiled nervously.

 

“You have allergy?”

 

“No.” That sounded a lot tamer, so Iolaus took out the big bottle of disinfectant they had.

 

“This burns,” he warned.

 

“Alright.” The man clenched his fists. Iolaus had visions of claws descending on him and ripping him to shreds.

 

Still, he was less cowardly than Hercules liked to claim. Working diligently, he manfully ignored the growling and weak thrashing when he doused the gash with the disinfectant.

 

When Iolaus had put away the bottle and looked at the man again, he had gone limp. A bit worried, he checked his breathing and his pulse. It seemed as okay as it could be.

 

The stranger remained unconscious while Iolaus did his best to dress the wound with several large compresses. Then Iolaus began tending to the rest of the injuries. He applied some zinc salve to the scratches and bite marks, as well as he could without being able to turn the man around much.

 

Once all of that was accomplished, he struggled to pull the sweatpants over the man’s powerful legs. And his fine hips. And his crotch. Where his gaze lingered maybe a bit too long. 

 

After that, he didn’t feel up to wrestling a shirt over the man’s torso, so he just tucked him very carefully under the duvet and left the room silently to panic in private.

 

A werewolf. 

 

In his room.

 

If that wasn’t a good reason to panic, Iolaus didn’t know what was. Even if the werewolf in question was the most attractive man he had ever seen. Wounded or not.

 

***

 

The light stabbed Luke’s eyes when he tried to open them. He knew he was not in Idris; this was the world of the mundanes. The powerful wards hiding Idris left a distinct smell, a smell this place only had in traces; he was still near, the magic was stretching this land to make up for the hidden land.

Everything smelt strange here. Strange, but not threatening. He was in an old farmhouse; he could smell the old wood from the walls and the floor, the musty smell of old plaster, ancient lingering traces of hay and smoke and the scent of a man permeating the bed he was in.

 

So somebody had really found him in the woods. And had not taken him to hospital. That was good.

He wondered if he remembered the face correctly or if his confused mind had just imagined an angel coming to rescue him. Wild blond curls framing a face dominated by kind blue eyes, a striking nose and the most wonderful full, glossy, pink mouth.

 

A mundane would not look this heavenly.

 

Luke tried to stretch out; the wave of pain crashing through his body had him curl up quickly. Breathing through his nose, he calmed himself and went through his options.

 

He could try to get out of the house and limp back to Idris. He didn’t fancy his chances of making it there, even if he wasn’t attacked. Or, he could let the mundane take care of him. Not something he fancied either; first of all, he didn’t know the guy; secondly there were reasons they didn’t drag mundanes into their battles. It either went badly for individual mundanes or it would bring the combined power of enraged mundane mobs on them.

 

He tensed when he heard soft footsteps approaching. For now, he was too weak for a confrontation, so he closed his eyes again, pretending to be asleep.

 

The scent of the stranger was intoxicating; he smelled of wood, of grass, and there was something almost pure about him. It took a lot of willpower not to sniff. A rough, warm hand was placed on his forehead. Luke didn’t have a fever, and the hand vanished again.

He shivered when the duvet was removed; that would not have given him away, but the immediate tensing apparently did.

 

“You are awake?”

 

The voice was melodic, tinged by a soft Swiss accent, his tone gentle. Luke opened his bleary eyes, meeting wary blue ones.

 

“I check your wounden, ok?”

“Yes.” His voice was raspy, speaking hurt more than Luke anticipated.

 

He watched in silence as the man scrutinized his body, prodding a few of the smaller wounds with his thick fingers, presumable to check if they had become infected as well. Apparently satisfied, he straightened again.

 

“It look good.”

“Thank you.” Luke forced his voice to make it through his raw throat. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Iolaus. What are you called?”

Luke suppressed his smile at the school English. He shouldn’t make fun of his rescuer. “Luke. So you’re Iolaus?”

 

That almost sounded like he was yodeling. Iolaus shrugged.

 

“I try to pronounce it English? You can also say Ee-o-la-ous.”

“Right. Thank you Iolaus.”

Iolaus smiled. “You are welcome.”

 

But the smile still didn’t quite make it to those beautiful eyes. Luke smelled, a bit belated, the fear. That mundane had seen him change, of course he was frightened.

 

“You’re not in any danger.” Luke felt himself getting a bit stronger, even if his throat still hurt.

Iolaus just nodded, still with the half smile. “You need something to drink? Your ….” he seemed to struggle for the word but gave up and put his finger to his own throat. “Dry?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

 

This time it didn’t take long for Iolaus to reappear.

 

“Here. Water. You can take … pills for the pain?”

“Yes.”

“Aspirin makes the blood more thin,” Iolaus said. “But I think your wounds are okay.”

Luke smiled again. It would take much more than aspirin to mess with a werewolf’s body.“I’m not going to take enough to destroy your efforts of patching me up.”

 

The young man seemed to take his word for it. He watched as Luke swallowed the pills, then asked:“You can eat?”

“Yes. That would be marvellous.”

 

In fact, Luke suspected that most of the weakness he felt was due to his lack of food.

 

“I make porridge? Or you like meat? Bread?” Iolaus’ brows furrowed as he seemed to take a mental inventory of his kitchen. “Protein drink maybe? It give you power?”

As much as he wanted meat, Luke wasn’t sure he could handle it now. “Porridge? And maybe that protein drink?”

“Sure!” 

 

Iolaus scurried out again, his relief so plain in his face that Luke didn’t need to smell the air to know. He could hear Iolaus puttering around downstairs, before he came up again, carrying a bowl of oatmeal that smelt of too much cinnamon and a bottle of chocolate flavoured protein drink.

 

“I give you rest now,” Iolaus announced, once he put them down by the bed. “You can eat alone, right?”

“Yes, thank you.”

 

***

 

Iolaus continued to panic in the living room. His phone showed him one missed call from Hercules, and messages from both Hercules and Jason. Before he bring himself to answer them, he downed half a can of beer. And located Hercules’ army rifle. And the old ammunition Hercules’ step father had hidden. He had no idea if that old ammunition would fit into Hercules’ new rifle; for the first time in his life Iolaus regretted doing the alternative civilian service. It would be nice to know how to shoot whatever was out there.

 

His pragmatic side told him, that even if he had his own rifle, he still wouldn’t have ammunition. And even if he had, he wasn’t the hero in an action film, he wouldn't be able to take out multiple attackers with one rifle. 

 

Feeling silly and more like himself again, he went to stash the rifle and ammunition. Then he took the rifle out again - it couldn’t hurt to have something to threaten intruders - and called Hercules.

 

He proceeded to lie to his best friends, claiming his hike had been absolutely uneventful, nothing out of the ordinary happened, absolutely nothing, he was very bored to be left alone in the middle of nowhere, which led, predictably, to Hercules defending his home.

 

While he was on the phone and pacing, Iolaus listened for any sounds coming from upstairs. Or outside. Living slightly outside the village had never felt as scary as now, when he had absolutely no idea of what was out there. A supernatural creature he knew nothing about was in Iolaus’ bed, after he had been wounded by something or someone, or several somethings and someones, and they were probably still out there.

 

His heart was pounding when he put down the phone. He needed to ask … Luke. Luke? What sort of ordinary name was that for an extraordinary creature?

 

He would ask after he had his own lunch.

 

***

 

Luke had also finished his meal when Iolaus had found enough courage to come again. He chucked the empty bottle into the rubbish bin under the desk and took the bowl from the nightstand to the desk.

 

Still not brave enough to ask his question, he sat down on his desk chair, looking at the stranger who looked right back. There was nothing for it.

 

“Werewolves and vampire problems are true, right?”

Luke looked up from behind long eyelashes, appearing more innocent and fragile than he could possibly be. “Problems?”

Iolaus vaguely gestured at Luke’s body. “The wounds. Some were from bites. But I don’t think from a wolf.”

“No,” Luke admitted hesitantly. “Those were vampires.”

“You are enemies?”

“Not normally, not nowadays.” Luke sighed, slowly dragging a hand through his messy black hair.

“They will come back for you?”

 

A small pause ensued, as Luke’s brows drew together, making him look dangerous for the first time. He glowered, but at a point somewhere outside the window, not at Iolaus.

 

“Possibly. I’m so sorry for your trouble. I’ll understand if you’ll just throw me out.”

 

And wasn’t that tempting. But Iolaus shook his head. “Too late now, right? I watched horror movies, they’ll follow you here and then they get to me.”

Luke laughed weakly. “This is no horror movie and they might find me before they find their way here.”

“[Still].” Iolaus crossed his arms. This was slightly more dangerous than rescuing birds, but he wouldn’t stand by and be responsible for anyone’s death. “Is there something I can do?”

 

Bravado was one thing. But looking over Luke’s battered body again reminded Iolaus that they were hopelessly outnumbered. If a werewolf hadn’t been able to defeat these attackers, Iolaus, though he was in good shape, wouldn’t stand a chance.

 

“Wash the car,” Luke suggested. “It will smell like me. Do you still have a fireplace where you can burn wood?”

“No.” Iolaus bit his lips. “But we have a grill outside? Do I fire that up? I could fry some sausages.”

“Perfect. That will mask my scent.”

 

He was panting now, and holding his side. Talking this much obviously pained him.

 

Iolaus went outside, grumbling to himself. He hated washing the car. So he first gathered some of the wood from the garden, branches that the last storm had torn off the apple trees and that they had meant to get rid of ages ago. He did his best to break them to pieces, they were old and brittle enough not to require a saw, and piled them into the old, battered grill.

Unfortunately (or fortunately?) he had also managed to get some young twigs into the mix, which would smoke a lot, and then he remembered the old cardboard boxes they had also meant to burn for a long time. They were slightly wet; all the better.

 

The acrid smoke made Iolaus eyes water; if that wasn’t enough to mask a werewolf’s scent from vampires, Iolaus didn’t know what would. Still, he finally went to work on the car; it only took him 20 minutes to gather all that he needed. For good measure, he also took the two ancient little tree shaped air fresheners from the kitchen drawer, hoping they still worked.

Once the car was so sparkling, Hercules and Jason were certain to suspect something had been up, he threw some cervelat sausages on the grill, that were still leftover from the huge first of August party they had thrown a couple of weeks back.

 

***

 

Luke woke up from the overwhelming smell of burnt meat assaulting his fine-tuned nose. He crinkled it and opened his eyes slowly, to see Iolaus carrying an old battered tray topped with a plate piled high with sausages and two plastic tubs of pre-made potato salad. The young man smiled awkwardly.

 

“Sorry, the cervelat burnt just a little bit. The fire was too much. You can still eat?”

“Sure. Thank you for cooking.”

 

His stomach growled angrily, but Luke reminded his body sternly that he was in no position to refuse any food offered to him. He needed to rebuild his strength, and if it was on charred sausages and weird potato salad. Iolaus favoured him with a relieved, dimpled smile and put the tray down on his desk, dislodging several books.

 

“I help you sit up, you can eat in the bed.” He looked down at Luke’s body. “You heal quick. Maybe tomorrow you are okay?”

 

Luke just nodded, focused on the task of hauling himself into a sitting position. He flinched when he felt Iolaus’ hands on his bare shoulders. Damn, that man was too attractive, with his smile, his eyes, his dimples, his massive amount of blond waves and an attractive, musky smell even the aroma of smoke and cleaner couldn’t mask entirely. Not from as close up as Iolaus was now.

 

“Sorry, we have nearly …” Iolaus couldn’t find the word, but pushed a cushion behind Luke’s back, making sure he was comfortable, before he busied himself with plating the food.

 

Iolaus joined him for dinner, sitting on his desk chair with the plate on his lap.

They ate in silence at first; while Luke’s wounds were looking better on the outside, he had spent much of his energy fighting off the vampire’s poison and healing. Now he had barely enough strength left to feed himself, but there was no way he was going to make this stranger feed him.

 

Iolaus noticed his struggles. “I can cut the cervelat for you?”

“No …”

 

It sounded pathetic to his own ears and Iolaus ignored it, and put his own plate aside to take Luke’s. As embarrassing as it was, to have his food cut for him like a toddler, Luke was actually grateful. He couldn’t even finish half the plate though.

 

When Iolaus took the plate, he asked:“You think the smoke is enough? They will not find you?”

“I doubt it.” Luke took a deep breath. “They were not around when you found me, I don’t know why they didn’t finish me when they had the chance, but I would have smelt them had they been near. So they won’t know what happened. Probably they don’t even care.”

“They cannot smell human with you when they come back?”

Luke did his best to shrug. “You overestimate our abilities.”

 

He was too weak to explain everything to Iolaus, to really put the young man more at ease. Yes, they might be able to smell a human, yes they might even be able to pick up that they went the same way, but not even a werewolf, the creature with the best sense of smell, would be able to determine if they had been there at the same time. Let alone a vampire. They might suspect, but even so, the place Iolaus had parked was popular with hikers, there were too many scents to even pick up the car they took.

 

The vampires might have been reckless enough to pursue Luke out of Idris and far into French and then Swiss territory, but they wouldn’t be reckless enough to actually search human homes at random. A bunch of black clad people roaming the countryside and invading private property would be certain to attract attention.

 

Luke felt safe here for the moment, safe with this mundane who didn’t seem to understand that some mundanes would have considered this a good opportunity to rid the world of a dangerous monster. Or at least call attention to the fact that there were, in fact, werewolves out who fought vampires. Which only happened in legends.

 

All Luke managed was another smile. Iolaus seemed to sense the intent and smiled back. The dimples weakened Luke further.

 

“It is late,” Iolaus remarked. “You need something more?”

“If you could help me find the way to the bathroom …”

 

Iolaus could. But Luke was at least strong enough to be able to do his business on his own, and in private, much to both their relief. He just needed to lean on the smaller man to get back into bed.

Then Iolaus announced that he would sleep on the couch in the living room; they had no guestroom he explained, but sleep claimed Luke before Iolaus was done explaining.

 

***

 

Iolaus woke up two hours later when a scream pierced the old floorboards above him. 

Iolaus’ heart jumped into his throat for a split second. The vampires? Had the vampires found Luke? Were they going to kill Iolaus too? What … he heard another scream, quieter, but no sounds of battles.

 

Gathering all his courage, and the unloaded rifle, Iolaus crept up the stairs. Still, no sounds, apart from harsh breathing coming from Iolaus’ room. He hadn’t closed the door, so he could see Luke as soon as he turned away from the stairs and faced his room. Luke was alone, but he was tossing and turning in the bed, gripping the duvet so hard Iolaus feared it would tear. A nightmare. Luke was having a nightmare.

 

How did one wake up a potentially dangerous beast?

 

“Luke?” Iolaus called. 

 

No reaction.

 

“Luke!” He repeated, a bit louder. 

Luke stilled, but tensed. Just to be on the saf(er) side, Iolaus remained close to the door, ready to run off.

 

“Luke. Wake up.”

 

Finally, a hazel eye cracked open and Luke slowly loosened his grip on the duvet. Carefully, Iolaus edged closer.

 

“You have a bad dream,” he explained. “You scream.”

Luke mumbled something that was possibly a _sorry_.

“You maybe attract your …” what was the word for enemy again? “the vampires. And you … open the wound.”

“Right.” Luke’s eyes became more focused. “Sorry. You’re right. Shit.” Luke exhaled sharply, clutching his side and scrunching up his face.

“You have pain? You need pain medicine?”

“Please. Won’t help much, but anything …”

 

Iolaus hurried to the bathroom and unearthed their stash of ibuprofen. He knew it wouldn’t help much. And he was really scared that Luke’s screams would attract visitors.

 

So when he came back and handed Luke the painkillers and a glass of water, he asked:

“Maybe if I stay here, I can wake you up quick and you don’t scream?”

“Maybe.” 

 

Luke smiled at him, and Iolaus felt himself melt. Then Luke shifted and patted the bed. Oh. Iolaus gulped. He had meant to get a mat and sleep on the floor, but of course, this was better. Werewolf or not, Luke was a very attractive man and out here, the most boring place on Earth only Hercules could be fond of, opportunities to hook up with somebody were extremely scarce.

 

So he lay down next to Luke, not even taking the time to get another duvet. Luke seemed to appreciate that, he pulled it over Iolaus and then, because of what seemed to be failing strength, he didn’t pull his arm back put let it rest over Iolaus’ shoulders.

 

“I’m really sorry for all the trouble,” Luke whispered, his breath playing with Iolaus’ hair.

“No trouble,” Iolaus assured him.

“I know it is.” Luke sighed. “I really appreciate it, and if there is anything I can do for you …”

 

Iolaus was very, very tempted to say _You could kiss me._ When he was younger, he would have said that. Instead he just shrugged now.

 

“I don’t need anything.”

“Hmm.” 

 

Luke squeezed his shoulder, but seemed comfortable with the closeness, so Iolaus also put an arm around the other man’s waist. The point was to make Luke feel safer. Even though, realistically, there was nothing much Iolaus could do to protect him.

 

No more nightmares disturbed their sleep, but Iolaus woke up twice when Luke groaned in pain, but slipped back into sleep quickly enough when he noticed that Luke was half-asleep.

 

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was the heat emanating from Luke. It felt like sharing the bed with a furnace. They had moved away from each other during the night. Luke had struggled free of most of the duvet and sweat pearled from his torso and dotted his face.

 

Iolaus swore in Greek. This was so not good.

 

“Luke?”

 

All the response he got was a mumbling, and he sighed, sliding out of bed. Shower. And coffee. And then trying to figure out what to do with a feverish werewolf who was hiding from vampires.

 

Twenty minutes later he carried yet another tray up, this one containing a large jug of water and a large glass, plus some bread and strawberry jam. And a cup of peppermint tea; it was the only one they had available.

 

“Luke?” He called again, waiting by the door.

This time, Luke stirred and turned to Iolaus with bleary eyes.

“What …” He looked around, a frown forming on his face. Then he sighed, and let his head fall back into the pillow. “Iolaus.”

“Hi.” Iolaus attempted to smile. “I have breakfast for you.”

“Cheers.”

 

Iolaus put the tray down on the desk again, and contemplated the bread. And Luke.

 

“I think I better make porridge.”

“Bread is fine.” Luke was struggling to sit up. “I just have a bit of a fever because my body is healing. The infection is bad.”

“Oh.” Iolaus flushed. “Sorry. I thinked … thought … I use enough desin ....”

He gave up on the word, but Luke understood anyway. 

“Not your fault.” Luke’s face was still covered in a thin sheet of sweat, and the healthy olive of his face was tinged grey. “You used enough desinfectant, I guess it was just already too advanced to be fully stopped. It would be worse without your help.”

“You talk too much,” Iolaus admonished, handing him the cup of tea. “You need rest.”

“Thank you.” Luke took a few sips. “I’ll get going after breakfast.”

 

Iolaus froze in the middle of handing him the plate with bread. His English was bad, surely he just didn’t understand that last sentence.

 

“Sorry? What do you mean?”

“I am going to leave after breakfast. I have already taken up …”

 

Iolaus didn’t understand that last phrase, but he had understood the first. He put the plate down on the nightstand with a loud clang, and put his hands on his hips, just like his mother always did when he had been too restless while ill.

 

“No. You have fever.” 

“Only a little,” Luke protested. “I can go …”

“No.” Iolaus said very firmly. “You cannot. You have fever and you need rest. You stay in bed.”

“I don’t want to impose on you any further, we are strangers, and …”

“I work today,” Iolaus said. “You can stay here, it is no problem. Don’t talk so much. I shower before I go. I bring you bread and cheese for lunch up here, and I cook dinner tonight. And I get medicine for fever in the town.”

 

Luke wanted to protest, but truth to be told, the fluid and the meal hadn’t restored him as much as he hoped. It was several hours from here to walk back to Idris, even if he wasn’t ambushed, it was doubtful that he’d make it.

 

***

 

Before he left, Iolaus went through the house with air freshener, but when he drove by the pasture next to their house, he saw that it had been unnecessary; the farmer was kind enough to bring out manure today. That would mask any werewolf scent.

He had a hard time focusing on the road; he had left a stranger in their house. A complete stranger. A werewolf. What kind of a trusting idiot was he?

Iolaus managed to almost forget about the strange situation as he went to work. In the morning, he worked at the gym in the nearby town. He was done by 1pm, which left him plenty enough time to grab a sandwich at Coop, and think of something to cook for dinner. He remembered the lemon chicken soup his mother used to cook … rice cooked in chicken broth, thickened with some eggs. That would be ideal for a sick person, even if it was a bit tricky to make.

 

At 3, his first class in their own school started. A Tai Chi class for senior citizens … that one was always fun, half of the old people gushed about his hair, the other half disapproved of long hair. And all of them were actually amazed when they made progress ‘at their age.’ 

 

Iolaus’ favourite was a little 80year old lady, who looked like the most conservative old farmer’s wife, but who told him he and his class made her feel like she was 20 again and flirted outrageously. Then he had two judo classes to teach; both were usually taught by Jason and Iolaus was exhausted at the end.

 

It was seven when he came home and he felt a very uncommon rush of relief when there was nothing out of the ordinary. Everything was just like he left it. Still, he just took the time to dump his shopping bags on the table in the hallway, before he quickly walked upstairs to check on his patient.

 

Luke was in bed, reading through the ancient copy of Frankenstein. He held the book so close to his face, his nose nearly touched the paper.

Iolaus had gathered a few random books they had in English and brought them up for Luke to entertain himself with. The werewolf looked up and smiled when Iolaus entered. He looked much better than in the morning, his eyes had lost most of their feverish shine and his skin looked healthier, if a bit too flushed. Still, the stench of sweat nearly overwhelmed Iolaus and he was sure it must overwhelm Luke too.

“Iolaus. What time is it?”

“Evening. I find other clothes for you. And new …” he gestured at the bed. “Bed clothes too.”

“You really don’t need to trouble yourself this much. You worked all day, you don’t need to take care of me too.”

 

Luke was shifting uncomfortably on the bed, hunching his shoulders, but he held Iolaus’ gaze.

 

“Yes, I must.”

 

He took the empty water jug from the nightstand.

 

Downstairs, he first put the groceries away and then put the rice in the broth, before he went to hunt for more of Hercules’ clothes. And he even remembered to fill the jug with water again before he went upstairs again, clothes and sheets draped over one arm, the water in the other. His mother would be so proud of him.

 

Once in his room, he first checked on Luke’s wounds; they were really almost healed, even that gash. It was still hot, however, so Iolaus reapplied the disinfectant, causing Luke to gnash his teeth.

 

Once that ordeal was over, he helped Luke to the bathroom. Luke insisted that he was well enough to give himself a quick a wash and change his clothes. While he was gone Iolaus quickly changed the bedsheets and then raced down, remembering the rice.

He was lucky; some of it was stuck to the bottom of the pan, but it wasn’t burned.

 

***

 

When he was at the most tricky phase of making the soup, the egg sauce, he heard somebody padding down the stairs.

 

“The kitchen is here!” He called and Luke appeared in the doorway, looking exhausted, but better after his bath. Hercules’ grey sweatpants and bright yellow shirt suited him much better than Hercules.

“Nice bun,” Luke commented.

Iolaus frowned a little. Didn’t bun mean bottom? No, that was bum. “What is a bun?”

Luke pointed at Iolaus’ head. “Your hairstyle. That’s a bun.”

“Oh. Yes, for cooking.”

“Can I help you with anything?”

“No. Thank you.”

Luke let himself fall into one the kitchen chairs. “Sorry for intruding, it does get a bit boring in bed.”

 

Iolaus just nodded, too focused on not letting the eggs curdle to be able to hold a conversation in English.

 

By the time he was finished, he was tired himself, and was just about to suggest they eat it in the kitchen, when he realised Luke was sweating again.

 

“You need to go into the bed again,” he said as sternly as he could, feeling very much like his mother when he realised he was still holding the ladle.

Luke looked like he was about to protest, but nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think this would exhaust me so much …”

“Go.” Iolaus told him. “I bring the soup up.”

 

His arms complained when he carried the pot, two bowls and spoons upstairs, but that was still easier than facing the prospect of carrying Luke again, should the man faint.

 

Luke was already back in bed when Iolaus entered, sitting up but leaning heavily against the wall behind him and looking so much like a contrite toddler, his big eyes wide open and apologetic, that Iolaus had to laugh. His good mood was restored, but when Luke tried to start eating and his spoon trembled, Iolaus put his own bowl down.

 

“Stop. I just make the bed, you get it dirty. I help you.”

Luke stared at him.

“You what? You’re going to feed me?”

“Yes.” Iolaus was still channelling his mother; it worked, Luke looked even more like a toddler know, a sulking toddler, but he obediently opened his mouth.

 

*

 

Luke felt like a toddler indeed; he couldn’t even remember the last time he was so weak somebody had to feed him. Or was willing to feed him. Being the alpha of his pack came with its perks, but having someone to look after him when he was injured was not one them.

 

The soup Iolaus was feeding him now smelt heavenly … he had already been dazzled in the kitchen. The taste did not disappoint and he couldn’t stop a pleased sound from escaping his throat once he swallowed.

 

The cook looked proud, his dimples very deep as he continued to feed Luke. Iolaus was an excellent nurse; he was attentive, never pushing a spoon at Luke before he had finished swallowing.

 

Once the bowl was finished, Luke asked:“What kind of soup is this? I never had anything like it before.”

“Kotosoupa Avgolemono. Greek lemon chicken rice soup.”

“It’s delicious.”

Iolaus beamed. “My mother always cook it.”

 

That gave Luke an opening to learn more about this angel who had rescued him.“So you’re family is Greek? Or did your parents just like Greek names and food?”

Iolaus laughed, while he took another bowl and started eating himself.“My family is Greek. I am third generation, my … my father and mother have been born in Switzerland.”

“But they don’t live here with you?”

 

Luke already knew the answer; he could smell quite clearly that no woman lived in this house, but there were two other prominent male smells. It would have been impolite and perhaps odd to mention that though.

 

Iolaus shrugged now, taking his time to eat more soup before he answered.“No … I live with my friends. Hercules, this is his house. He is Greek too, but his mother married a Swiss. Jason has a Greek name, but he is not. His mother is American.”

“I see. But they’re not here now.”

“No. Hercules will come back next week, Jason next month. You have friends?”

 

He winced, apparently realising that the way he phrased that was not ideal. Luke did his best to smile reassuringly.

 

“Yes, I have friends, and I don’t doubt that they’re already looking for me.”

“You live in France? Or Switzerland?”

Luke bit his lips. “No. I cannot tell you where I live, I’m sorry. We need to stay hidden from mundanes.”

“Mundanes?”

“Ordinary people. Like you.” Luke sighed. “If people found out werewolves exist, vampires would be the least of my problem, you know?”

“I understand. Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more. You saved me and you take care of me. I can only tell you that my parents and my sister are not werewolves.”

“So, the stories are right? You bite?”

“Not me personally, I never turned anyone. But most of us were turned by another werewolf’s bite, yes”

“So …” Iolaus ducked his head. “Is it bad? Being a werewolf?”

 

Silence dropped heavily, while Luke tried to figure out how to answer this unexpected question. He went with the truth.

 

“Yes,” Luke said finally. “It really sucks.”

Iolaus’ expressive face turned serious.“I’m sorry for you.”

Luke shrugged, trying to ignore the way his heart fluttered when Iolaus looked so concerned for him.“Nothing anyone can do. It is how it is.”

“It is bad.” 

 

Iolaus stretched out a hand and put in on Luke’s shoulder to squeeze it. Luke suppressed a pleased sigh. Iolaus let his hand rest for a moment, then he pulled it back.

 

“You want more soup?”

“No, thank you. It was amazing, but I’m full.”

“Ok. I take it down then. I bring tea and medicine.”

 

Luke wasn’t too sure how well mundane medicine would work for him, but he didn’t mean to tell Iolaus. It also wouldn’t hurt him. As weak and sick as he felt right now, he could also feel that the healing was nearly done. In the morning he would be right as rain.

And never see this wonderful young man again.

 

After he had turned into a werewolf his own family had distanced themselves from him; all he had was a pack he acquired more or less by accident when he had killed their leader. Life as an alpha wolf in Idris was lonely.

 

And then this young mundane appeared, treating Luke like family. Outside, the vampires might still lurk. Or his pack (the ones he claimed were his friends) might be near, looking for him. Might even be fighting the vampires. One way or another, this situation had to be resolved. Only one more night in this little pocket of paradise left. He had had time to think, and he thought that he might have figured out the problem.

 

***

 

When Iolaus came back, he found Luke lying down again, hugging the pillow and looking wistful.

 

“Luke? I have medicine?”

“Thank you.” Luke struggled to sit up again. 

 

He took the medicine and the tea with shaking hands, but managed to not spill anything. Iolaus settled on the chair, drinking his tea, trying to relax a little, when Luke’s voice startled him.

 

“You look exhausted too.”

Iolaus frowned slightly, exhausted? It must mean tired. So he nodded. “I am tired. Many work today.”

“You should get some sleep too, then.”

“You are all right now?”

“Yes. But …” Luke looked straight at Iolaus now, a small shy smile playing around his mouth. “Can you sleep here with me again?”

Iolaus almost choked on his tea. “In the bed?”

“Yes? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just really slept better like that last night. I promise, I’ll be well enough to leave tomorrow.”

 

His voice was thick and unsteady, almost as if he was afraid of Iolaus’ reaction. It was overstepping boundaries between strangers, but of course Iolaus said: “Okay.”

 

Who was Iolaus to resist? Luke was gorgeous, and he invited him to his bed. If nothing else, that could fuel his fantasy.

 

Ten minutes later they were both ready for bed; this time Luke was wearing a shirt, but Iolaus was not. It could never hurt to advertise. Iolaus wasn’t as defined as his boss at the gym would like, and not as much as Luke, but he was fit enough, lean and flexible rather than pumped.And he knew he didn’t imagine the interest with which Luke glanced over his body before Iolaus lay down. Gathering his courage, Iolaus turned and put an arm around Luke’s waist.

 

“I hope you feel better tomorrow,” he mumbled, addressing Luke’s broad chest right in front of him.

“I will,” Luke’s deep voice promised. “I’ll be out of your hair.”

Luke tugged Iolaus’ hair playfully, and Iolaus chuckled. “Not for me. For you. You don’t like staying in bed.”

“I don’t.” Luke agreed, his hand still in Iolaus’ hair. “But you made it very bearable.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you have to get up early tomorrow?”

“No … only work in afternoon. And all evening.”

“Good … I’ll leave in the morning. I’ll even fix you breakfast if you want.”

“You really think you’re good in the morning.”

“I …”

“Don’t tell me again. We need sleep.”

 

He felt Luke’s deep chuckle, but the man shut up, and Iolaus only vaguely registered that he was moving closer to Luke, as sleep claimed him.

He was woken up again by sunrays tickling his nose. Or was it Luke’s hair that was tickling him? They had got even closer during the night, Iolaus’ face rested in the crook of Luke’s neck, part of his face was covered by Luke’s hair, and Luke’s beard scratched against his scalp. More worrying was that Iolaus upper leg was now somehow wedged between Luke’s and he became very, very aware of the impressive morning boner pressing against his own raging erection.

 

Right. Luke was also gripping him very tightly, so it seemed unlikely that he could untangle them discreetly. Still, a guy needed to at least try to get out of a very embarrassing situation. Iolaus tried to will his boner down, tried to think of something not sexy, maybe their neighbour who always complained about their untidy garden, mumbling something about dirty Greeks, but even Hansueli Meier wasn’t enough to counter the warmth of that firm body and Luke’s unique smell … not like a wolf, as Iolaus would have assumed, but not human either, something wild and natural that Iolaus just couldn’t pinpoint, but that worked like a siren’s call, inviting him to press closer.

 

Just when he thought he wouldn’t be able to resist anymore, Luke stirred and mumbled something in his sleep. Then he tensed.

 

“Iolaus?” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“Shit. Sorry. I …” He loosened his hold on Iolaus. “I didn’t mean to molest you.”

Iolaus wasn’t sure what ‘molest’ meant, but could guess from the context. “It is not your mistake, I think. My leg is in between your legs.”

“True.” Luke moved his head and Iolaus dared to look up. 

 

They were still very very close, when Luke spoke Iolaus could feel his breath on his lips. 

 

“Do you want to move it?”

“No,” Iolaus admitted.

“Good. Can I kiss you then?” 

 

Luke’s voice was low and husky now. It made Iolaus shiver and he closed the very short distance between their faces. He pressed his lips on Luke’s, catching Luke’s lush lower lip between his and nibbling it gently. Luke gripped him tightly again, pressing their bodies together as he deepened the kiss, teasing Iolaus to open his mouth, and exploring with his tongue. 

 

Luke’s right hand was cupping the back of Iolaus’ head, fingers threading through his hair, his left hand was resting very firmly on Iolaus’ bottom. Iolaus rocked his hips against Luke’s, rubbing their cocks together.

 

He still had enough brainpower left to worry briefly if Luke’s wounds were really healed enough for such activities, but then Luke took his hand off Iolaus’ behind and pushed Iolaus pants down, and Iolaus quickly reciprocated. His cock rubbed against the silky skin of Luke’s now, making him moan. Luke panted into their kiss when he took both of their cocks in his large hand and began pumping them quickly, never once breaking their open-mouthed kiss.

 

Iolaus came first, spilling all over Luke’s hand. Luke was considerate enough to stop for a moment, letting go of Iolaus and quickly finishing himself off, while Iolaus rubbed weakly over Luke’s thighs, encouraging him.

 

Their mouths were still close together as they panted, until Iolaus moved away a little, to get more oxygen. Luke was a vision, his hair tousled, his mouth still open, and his hazel eyes shining with bliss. When Luke noticed Iolaus looking, he tilted his head down a little and smiled.

 

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“I feel very much restored.” Luke grinned a bit and stretched, demonstrating how fine he felt. “I told you. I can even make breakfast if you want.”

“Hmm …” Iolaus glanced at his phone on the nighstand. It was 9am. Time to have breakfast, he needed to leave at 12. He sighed. “You don’t know the kitchen. We make it together. And maybe showered together.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

Both didn’t talk much more; Luke prepared scrambled eggs, Iolaus supplied the coffee. After they had cleaned the kitchen, they did indeed shower together; that had sounded much better in Iolaus head than in reality. The bathroom only had an ancient tub, that made it hard to hold on to something when they brought each other off. After Iolaus nearly fell out of the tub, Luke went down on his knees, grabbed Iolaus hips and engulfed Iolaus’ erection with his hot lips. It didn’t take long for Iolaus to come. Luke refused to let Iolaus return the favour, pointing out the time quite sensibly.

 

That brought Iolaus back to reality, a reality that would leave the house empty once more. He had always loved one night stands, or loose affairs … not that he ever had many of them … but he didn’t want his time with Luke to end. Even if Luke had only been there for two nights. Still, there was no way around it.

 

***

 

They left in Iolaus car and Iolaus took a detour to drop Luke off in a small forest near the border. When he was already out of the car, Luke leant down to look at Iolaus again. All thought of never seeing that man again were gone; he needed to meet Iolaus again. This angelic mundane, who was so sweet and so caring.

 

“I will be back,” he promised. “I need to gather my allies and we’ll sort out the vampires and anyone stirring trouble. But I will be back to properly thank you.”

“This morning was a good thank you.” Iolaus winked and Luke melted. 

 

He wanted to stay here, he wanted to forget all about Idris. But all that would accomplish was putting Iolaus in danger.

 

“If you don’t want me to come back …” Luke began, but Iolaus shook his head.

“No, you are always welcome. Without vampires.”

“Thank you.”

 

The sad look on Iolaus’ face cheered Luke up. It was good to know that he was not the only one who grew attached during these two short days.

 

He would be back.

 

No vampires were around, when he raced, in wolf form, through the forest, quickly crossing the border to France and moving north to Idris. After two hours, the smell of werewolves reached his nose, and he veered east to find his pack. Alaric seemed genuinely relieved to see him. They all transformed quickly so Luke could tell them what happened to him, how he was attacked just near the border where he was hunting, how they had outnumbered him. Of course, the pack had already figured it out. What they didn’t know, but what they could smell now, was that a mundane had helped him. And, judging by their snickering, that he had had a good time with said mundane.

 

He didn’t tell them, that the mundane had seen what he was. Better to let them think Iolaus had considered him a fugitive from justice. Somebody might be overeager to eliminate all threats to their secrecy.

 

Alaric told him that the Clave was aware of the situation, it was convening in Alicante to decide, once again, if they’d continue to let vampires and werewolves stay in the Shadowhunter’s territory, as they were ‘always stirring trouble.’ All the pack members growled when Alaric quoted the Clave. As if it was their fault. The only incident was vampires attacking Luke. For the second time in as many months; the first time the pack had managed to drive them back. Even now, Luke had been the only target and they hadn’t even killed him.

 

Luke knew that it might be his fault; as a Shadowhunter, when he was young, he had been among those lobbying to throw the vampires out. Even siding with those equating vampires with demons. If he was the problem, that could be solved easily.

 

A French hiker snapped the picture of his life when a wolf packed raced past him.

 

***

 

At the end of September, Iolaus was busy in the garden, propping up the branches of ancient apple trees which threatened to snap under the weight of the nearly ripe apples. Hercules and Jason were busy at the other end, fixing the fence. When he stepped back to admire his handiwork, he stumbled into someone.

 

“Hercules!” he began, but that wasn’t Hercules aftershave. Even before he turned, he recognised that scent, the earthy smell that was Luke.

“Hi Iolaus.” Luke eyes were sparkling, but Iolaus noticed the insecurity hiding behind the smile.

“Luke! I did not think …” Iolaus felt his lips spread into an almost painful smile. “You look good.”

 

He looked more than good; when Luke had left, he had still looked pale and a bit sick. The man in front of him now radiated health and power; even the nerdy glasses he was wearing now could not take away from the powerful frame. Iolaus saw many men in great shape in his daily life, working in a fitness centre and living with Hercules and Jason, but nobody with that air of quiet confidence, with that aura of somebody who knew he was stronger than those around him and didn’t need to draw attention to it. Luke caught him staring and laughed.

 

“You too. The sun suits you.”

 

Before they could get any further, Hercules and Jason had noticed them and shouted Iolaus’ name. Iolaus cursed his best friends for breaking the moment. He turned to them, frowning as they approached.

Hercules was impervious to Iolaus’ moods and smiled when he reached them.

 

““[Hi, I’m Hercules. You know our Iolaus?]”

Iolaus elbowed him, while Luke smiled politely confused.

““[I’m not your Iolaus, and Luke only speaks English.]”

Jason put his left arm around Iolaus shoulder. Of course, the bastard was fluent in English, his second native language. “I’m Jason.” He held out his right hand. “Are you the one who made Iolaus so moody lately?”

Iolaus glared at him. “[Shut up, bastard. I’m not moody, and you only came home yesterday, what do you know?]”

 

Then he realised that poor Luke was still confused.

 

“I am sorry for my friend Luke. I am not moody. I introduce you.  [Luke’s a friend, all right? I met him when the two of you abandoned me. And now get lost.]”

 

Hercules laughed brightly, and elbowed Iolaus in the ribs. Much harder than Iolaus had elbowed him.

 

“Jason and I have to finish the … thing.”

“… fence,” Jason helped him out. “But please have a beer with us later, if you have the time.”

“Sure. Nice to meet you.”

 

Iolaus waited for them to be out of earshot again. “We go inside?” he suggested. “You want a drink?”

“Sure.” Luke’s smile still made Iolaus weak. The way he just focused that beautiful smile at Iolaus.

 

Once they were both on the couch with a soda - beer was for later - Luke hesitantly put his hand next to Iolaus and Iolaus didn’t hesitate in taking it. Luke inhaled audibly.

 

“We have a new peace treaty.”

“That is good?” Iolaus smiled. “I am happy for you.”

“Thank you.”

They were both silent for a moment. Then Luke said: “I’m moving to Switzerland. To Basel.”

“You … what?”

“When I was here, I realised that my old life was not what I want. And some people wanted me gone from my old home, that’s why they hunted me as it turns out. I made them give me some money in compensation for leaving and bought a small shop in Basel. It sells English antiques and old books.”

“That is good.”

 

Iolaus assumed it was. He had never much bothered with such things. Luke’s shy smile was much more interesting anyway.

 

“I’ll have to learn German though. Do you think you can help me? Basel is not so far away.”

“Of course! And you help my English! We make tandem!”

 

Impulsively, he turned to hug Luke, and the older man lost no time in turning it into an embrace, almost pulling Iolaus in his lap.

 

“I’d like to see a lot of you, Iolaus. Take you out to dinner. The cinema. Or the theatre. Whatever you like.”

 

As an answer, Iolaus put his hands on Luke’s face and dragged it down for a soft kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> There is a reason why this takes place in Switzerland apart from me being Swiss! (I am actually not familiar with the Basler Jura).  
> I was browing the Shadowhunter Wiki for more information on this world, as I only know the movie with Aidan Turner. It turns out the author has invented a secret country of Shadowhunters, Idris. Because she is obviously unfamiliar with "Central Europe" she placed it between Switzerland, France and Germany. There are wards around it, so if any mundane "happens" to enter it, they will be transported to the other side. Anyone who looks at a map should realise that this includes basically everyone who travels from Basel to Basel airport (which is located in French territory). Seems a stupid place to hide a country, but anyway. I went with it in this story, because apparently, according to the books, Luke (Lucian) is originally from Idris.
> 
> As it comes up in the story: In Switzerland, every (able-bodied) man has to do national service - most commonly in the army, but it is possible to to Civil Service (for example in an old people's home) instead. After an inital "recruit school" they serve a couple of weeks every year, usually until they're in their early thirties (there's a set number of days they have to do, so it is not the same age for everyone), and until they're finished, they have the rifle at home. After 2007, the army stopped issuing ammunition to take home along with the rifle though.
> 
> Our national holiday is the first of August and people usually have barbecues with friends and family, eating copious amounts of cervelat (a red sausage made from beef, bacon and pork).


End file.
